


Anger Management

by Sarobando



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Barebacking, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood and Torture, M/M, Not Beta Read, Porn with Feelings, edgeplay to cure what ails you, everyone wave hi to felix and dedue passing by pretending they saw nothing, look things get bloody in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarobando/pseuds/Sarobando
Summary: Dimitri has a lot of anger to work through. And anger makes him violent.Thankfully, Byleth thinks that sounds hot.





	Anger Management

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I'd like to put my tongue-in-cheek statement that no, I do not actually think you can heal trauma with bdsm. So here it is: You can't heal trauma with bdsm. Sadly. Or I'd be the healthiest person in the world.

Byleth couldn’t forget the day he found him if he tried. Huddled, blood-spattered, and rain-soaked. Then, shortly afterward, terrifyingly murderous, blood-spattered, and rain-soaked. That was two months ago. Two months in which Dimitri hadn’t budged an inch. Two months in which nothing but half-insane threats at anybody vaguely Empire-related left his lips.

Of all things, it was Felix that gave Byleth the push he needed. “Do something about that wild boar. I can’t stand to look at it like this” was what he’d said. If even Felix felt that he was distressed by Dimitri’s attitude, then someone needed to act. It wasn’t even truly a question of who would; even Byleth knew only Byleth could do this.

In fact, he even had a plan. It was a stupid, idiotic, perhaps even suicidal plan that he sincerely hoped would be exactly what Dimitri needed.

He waited until night had fallen. Dimitri would still be studying the rubble in the back of the church until far later than should be healthy, and Byleth needed to be sure nobody else would be in earshot. He hated to think it, but just then he was glad for the lack of Dedue. There would be no easy way to explain. Byleth would never know if Dedue could see what Byleth saw in Dimitri’s eyes, five years ago.

He pushed open the doors of the church. He didn’t try to hide his footfalls’ echoing steps, but as expected Dimitri didn’t look. Perhaps he didn’t even hear, if instead he was too busy listening to the laments of the dead. Byleth stopped just feet away.

“I’m joining the Empire,” he said, stone-faced.

Byleth blinked, and in that time, Areadbhar pricked at his throat. Dimitri’s single eye was wide and far too bright. An impassiveness to match Byleth’s own was on his face, but his twitching lips betrayed his displeasure. “Do not jest about _her_,” he snarled.

Byleth remained steely. “What if I wasn’t?”

The glaive broke skin in Dimitri’s wavering hand, a drop of blood striping the weapon’s edge. “Death,” he croaked, like a judge’s verdict, but his hand continued to shake. Byleth waited. Twice the edge of the glaive threatened his windpipe, only to shudder and twitch away.

Areadbhar clattered to the floor. “A relic is too good for you!” he assured himself in a roar, charging forward. He caught Byleth in both hands by the neck and drove him backward into a half-shattered pillar. Pain jolted up his back and made him gasp, his Adam’s apple shifting uncomfortably under Dimitri’s grasp. It seemed that causing pain was finally a feeling Dimitri knew what to do with; the muscles of his arms grew taut with the effort of crushing Byleth’s throat. His breathing went from gasps to silence.

The second murder attempt went no better. Despite the raving bloodlust on his face, Dimitri’s eyes were welling up. His strength faltered and let Byleth drag in strained breaths. “Why,” he asked through gritted teeth, “why can’t I....”

As gently as he could, Byleth caressed the back of Dimitri’s hand. He flinched, but didn’t tear away. “You don’t want to kill,” Byleth said, voice wispy but firm.

“You’re wrong,” Dimitri grunted, fingers flexing. “I want to crush your throat and stop you breathing. I want to see you bleed. I want to see you suffer.”

Byleth steadied his mind. The boar was under the trap. It was time to drop the net.

“Do it.”

Dimitri froze. Byleth returned his gaze, and by then it was obvious what his motives were. His face was burning bright red from far more than backed-up blood flow, his eyes lidded and glassy from something other than near-unconsciousness. Almost experimentally, or perhaps to check if Byleth was somehow lying, Dimitri retightened his grip. The shuddering, hoarse moan that earned seemed genuine enough to convince him.

Then, for a moment, Byleth heard the old Dimitri again. “How... should I...?” he asked, with all the sheepish confusion of a schoolboy.

“Believe what I told you. Think of me as you would if I’d joined the Empire, and only now you’ve gotten hold of me. Just this once... let it all out.”

Dimitri’s expression turned impenetrable, and second after second dragged on longer and longer. Then, the world rotated as Byleth was bodily thrown to the ground. The cobbles came up to meet him hard, only a last-moment reflex saving him from breaking his nose. Instead the impact went up his chest, hips, and elbows. He coughed thickly and went to rise, only for a heavy boot to crash into his ribs hard enough to crack one. He rolled sprawling onto his back, the church ceiling spinning above him.

“You will beg for death before I am through with you.”

Then Dimitri was on him.He kneeled straddling Byleth’s waist, an armoured hand pinning him by the breastbone. With his right hand he deftly stole a dagger from Byleth’s belt. Byleth looked up into his face through the curtain of blonde on all sides of it, and for the first time was relieved and happy to see unalloyed, manic, sadistic joy.

“Empire dogs do not deserve the dignity of clothes.” The cold steel of the dagger was nearly painful against Byleth’s overheated skin. Dimitri was thoroughly careless with his cuts, reducing the clothing to ribbons. Half a dozen nicks were bleeding freely, each one earning progressively higher-pitched keens. He struggled to close his legs around his fast-swelling erection as it bounced free, but a knee dug hard into his thigh thwarted him.

Dimitri’s gaze raked over him as Byleth trembled in the icy midnight air. He was a mess at this point: Bloody, bruised, shivering yet sweating, apparently not daring to try and fight back. In fact instead, whenever one of his squirms tugged open a cut or pressed a bruise, there was a little whine he made that never failed to make Dimitri’s twisted grin widen. It gave him an idea.

He cast aside the dagger, it spinning out far out of their reach into the darkness. That freed up a hand that he brought up to his mouth, setting his teeth into the fabric knuckle of the gauntlet and pulling it off. That too he threw to the side. He trailed his fingers over Byleth’s stomach, laughing to feel his muscles go taut from tension. His touch landed at a point near his side, just a few inches left of his navel. He’d been rough slicing away Byleth’s belt, and he’d left a cut almost two inches long in the skin underneath.

His fingers traced the outline of it. Byleth hissed, the hands that had been content to just hold Dimitri’s pinning wrist going tight. While Byleth had never quite been relaxed, there was definitely more trepidation in his eyes now. Dimitri’s middle fingertip prodded the wound. “D-Dimitri—?” He wrenched his hand free of Byleth’s grasp and clamped it over his once-teacher’s mouth.

He forced his middle finger in to the first knuckle. Byleth screamed and tried to twist free, but in those five years Dimitri had grown far stronger. And lest he try to deny his true feelings, Byleth’s cock was fully hard and drooling precum not inches away from where Dimitri was torturing him. He even rocked his finger back and forth amidst the rushing blood like one would finger a pussy.

When at last he relented, his hand was soaked red, and he knew precisely what he’d do with it. His other hand left Byleth’s mouth now that it was safe to, and went to his codpiece and trousers. His own cock came free, and even as blown out as Byleth was, he felt compelled to peek. His throat caught. He’d expected this would happen, he hadn’t expected _that_. Nor had he expected that Dimitri would then smear that incredible cock with Byleth’s blood, and from the rapturous look on his face quite enjoy doing so.

Byleth winced when Dimitri again went to grab his injured side, but this time it was just to pull him onto his front. Thankfully for Byleth’s now painful erection, it seemed Dimitri wanted him on his hands and knees. His legs were yanked into a wide stance.“A dog’s position for breeding an Empire dog,” said Dimitri, and the next thing Byleth felt was blood and precum on the tip of a cock as large and immovably hard as its owner.

Dimitri wasn’t gentle. With all the same strength he used to wield Areadbhar, he forced himself in. The long, pained moan sharpened to a keen once the ridge of the head had been locked in. The gut-disturbing slide in felt like it took ages. Whenever his spasming lower body tightened, it felt like he could feel Dimitri’s pulse buried under his diaphragm.

Above him, he heard Dimitri breathing like a winded bull. His pause once fully hilted last only seconds, and the jerk backward was so quick and hard Byleth almost went with him. The motion was smoother than either of them could have hoped, Byleth suspected in no small part because his ass was bleeding just as much as the rest of him. The slam back in knocked the air out of him, and he struggled to gasp before the next landed. Dimitri’s pace forced him to hyperventilate. The world was swimming.

He felt Dimitri lean in, chest to his back. Hot breath on the back of his neck was his only warning before teeth closed on his nape. _“Like a lion would”_ was the only thought Byleth was capable of. Everything faded into grey as his orgasm ripped through him. His cock bounced, untouched, striping the church rubble white. Dimitri was growling, biting harder, as the snap of his hips turned irregular. Byleth’s body was stretched so tight over him he swore he could feel him twitch and swell. The growling became a roar as he ground himself in as deep as he could, blowing a load that left Byleth sick and heavy.

Byleth’s strength failed him and he sank limply to the ground. Dimitri’s cock came free in a rush of blood and cum, and all Byleth could do was wheeze, half in agony, half in rapture. The church was silent but for the sound two men catching their breaths. Colour oozed back into Byleth’s vision. Then the aches came, everything all at once. Despite that, he turned to his side and lifted himself onto his elbows and looked to Dimitri.

Tears fell from his eye. He seemed transfixed on the growing red-white puddle forming under Byleth’s wrecked body. Cruel as it was, Byleth was hoping for this. Hoping Dimitri would be able to see what it would truly be like to brutalize someone he cared about. Byleth getting to enjoy it was just a bonus.

Dimitri blinked and looked up into Byleth’s face. He swallowed. His voice was hoarse and thick. “I... I can’t begin to apologize.”

Byleth shook his head. “Just... tell me you’re back. That’s enough.”

Finally, he smiled. A sweet, genuine, grateful smile. “I’m... back. Thank you... Byleth.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first piece despite this account being ages old. So lemme know whatcha think :D


End file.
